


Know Your Place

by deathmarkedlove_archivist



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-29
Updated: 2007-01-29
Packaged: 2019-05-09 23:16:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathmarkedlove_archivist/pseuds/deathmarkedlove_archivist
Summary: Small scene between Buffy and Spike. Takes place during late Season 7. G





	Know Your Place

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Know Your Place  
> Author: Xionin  
> Rating: G  
> Summary: Just a scene I wish had occurred late season 7.  
> Feedback: Pretty please?

He eyes the Slayer sitting on the back steps, looking out over her  
protectorate. He doesn't want to disturb her. There are plenty of  
other places to catch a smoke.

"You just gonna hover behind me, or do you wanna sit?"

Her voice startles him as it always does when she addresses him  
these days. The edge is soft and caresses him, rather than slicing  
through his thin skin with abandon.

He moves silently, drifting towards her warmth like the proverbial  
moth. Doesn't speak as he lights up and takes a drag, sitting beside  
her. She gives him a sidelong glance, full of disapproval. He  
returns it full of end-of-days resignation. She looks down and then  
away with a mirthless laugh.

"We'll make it, luv." He says, sotto voce.

"Not all."

"No." He exhales. "Not all…but most."

"Most." She echoes, sighing. "Most isn't enough."

"I'll do what I can. Do my best."

She turns to him fully in the moonlight. His skin is luminescent;  
his hair is on fire, gathering light to it like a ravenous and  
greedy thing.

"I know." She smiles a small smile. He doesn't look at her. The  
smudge on the step below him holds his interest. Dried blood.

"It won't be enough." The crinkle in his brow fascinates her. Her  
hand moves of its own volition, following a predestined path to his  
forehead; to the source of his consternation. As if on cue, his head  
turns into it.

She touches him lightly. The electricity burns him. He has to close  
his eyes. Her index finger smoothes out his furrowed brow and his  
face relaxes. She traces the line of his nose, the outline of his  
lips; his chin and drops her hand to her lap.

"I know you'll do all you can and that's more than enough, Spike."  
Her voice is so soft, so revealing that he shivers. Lifting his eyes  
to hers, he feels himself becoming submerged.

This is a place of terror for him. He doesn't want to go back there  
alone again.

"Buffy-"

"Uh-uh. Don't." She turns from him, resuming her vigil. They sit in  
silence for a hundred years before he looks back out into the  
darkness.

When her hand comes to rest in his, he slowly curls his fingers  
around it watching, with interest, the contrast of porcelain and  
gold. She takes a deep and soundless breath.

"I love you."

His eyes fly to her face and there isn't even the subtlest of  
changes. He briefly wonders if it was an auditory hallucination, but  
then she swivels her gaze and determined green meets astonished  
blue. She squeezes his hand as if to say `this is real.' He looks  
down at it and then again over to her. Her other hand reaches up to  
wipe away the tear he didn't know he'd shed.

"If I don't make it-"

"You will." His strained voice comes to him after a few false starts.

"If one of us…or both of us…" She looks down for a moment, consumed  
by the possibility, before meeting his angry and incredulous  
eyes. "I want – I need for you to know."

"Buffy-"

"Do you love me?" The flavor of whatever he is about to say is wiped  
from his tongue. He can only taste her fear.

"Always."

"Say it." Her eyes are wet-rimmed saucers. "Please, I need-"

"I love you, Buffy. Now. Forever...Always." He brings her hand to  
his mouth and gently kisses it, his eyes closing. She watches him,  
an odd feeling of relief settles over her.

When their eyes meet again, they both smile with the absurdity of it  
all. He removes his fingers from hers and runs his hand tentatively  
over her hair and down her back. She leans into him as he scoots  
closer. They sit side-by-side, both lost in thought, knowing it's  
the beginning of the end.

"It makes sense. Us. Doing this here." Her tone is wistful.

"Why's that, luv?"

"This is kinda our place."

"This is? Out here in the thick of night an' all?"

"No, I mean here. On these steps. With these trees." He looks  
around, remembering the first time they sat there together and every  
time after.

"I suppose." He kisses her hair, leaning his cheek on the top of her  
head. He flicks the forgotten cigarette onto the dirt and folds her  
in his arms. They sit quietly, waiting for eternity.

=fin=


End file.
